a restoration of significance

A Restoration of SignificanceAuthor(s): Jonathan LarsonSource: Journal of Economic Issues, Vol. 29, No. 3 (Sep., 1995), pp. 910-915Published by: Association for Evolutionary EconomicsStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4226995 .

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910 Notes and Communications

[Editor's Note-In September 1994, the restored Veblen homestead in Minnesota was dedi- cated. Jonathan Larson tells the story of how the restoration came to be and describes its importance. This is followed by the comments made by Warren Samuels at the dedication ceremony.

A Restoration of Significance

Historical significance is a highly elusive concept, especially in the United States where teaching history is a neglected art and historians are considered vaguely subversive. Because of this, the act of preserving an old building for historical reasons is usually surrounded by local con- troversies and fund-raising difficulties that ensure that work is delayed for years, if not decades. The Veblen farmstead in Minnesota was almost lost from lengthy neglect caused by such forces-a classic case study in the dilemmas of American historic preservation.

The case for saving the Veblen farmstead was utterly flawless. Thorstein Veblen's writings are admired around the globe by students of industrial culture. All of his books (save his translation of the Lexdaela Saga) are still in print-his most famous, The Theory of the Leisure Class, has never been out of print since it was first published in 1899. His ideas inspired a school of thought that publishes a professional journal, and in- ternational organizations exist to discuss the relevance of his ideas. Veblen's intellectual stock is currently rising because the political economist who spent his career railing against industrial waste has much to offer in addressing modern industrial environmental problems. How could the farm where Veblen lived and worked from the age of seven until he finally left at 34 NOT be saved?

Actually, there were so many reasons against preservation that its suc- cessful completion in August 1994 is cause for genuine astonishment and delight for those who despaired that it would ever happen.

* The Veblen farmstead was not designated historical for architectural reasons. Although architects lose their share of preservation battles too, they have the tremendous advantage of being able to dress up their proposals in the largely non-controversial language of high design that appeals to the personnel staffing the relevant



Notes and Communications 911

historical societies. By contrast, Veblen's life and writings were the essence of controversy. Nearby Northfield has two small church-affiliated liberal arts col- leges that both had legitimate claims on the local farmboy turned world-class intellectual. St. Olaf College was founded by the Nor- wegian ethnic enclave of which Veblen was a member, while Car- leton College is where he went to school. Carleton indeed inspired Veblen's great genius-but hardly in the way schools like to adver- tise, for he spent his professional career assaulting the intellectual foundations of everything he learned there. St. Olaf's claim to Veblen's legacy is that they refused to employ him when he badly needed a job-even with a Ph.D. from Yale-because he could not toe the line on the sacred Lutheran dogma of vicarious atonement. As a result, while Carleton College actually owned the property for some years, their institutional bias prevented the sort of commit- ment that spends money. St. Olaf basically took the position that Veblen was Carleton's baby even though they otherwise attempt to glorify all accomplishments Norwegian.

* The Minnesota Historical Society, like most such institutions, is dominated by curators who define themselves by their ability to or- ganize and catalogue the collections. Such people seem institution- ally incapable of internally assessing the historical merits of restoring the home of an intellectual. Lacking an organized and vocal local constituency adept at pressure and presentation, the Veblen farmstead restoration project barely made it on any agen- da, much less get funds. As a result, all the important work of saving the Veblen farm came from outsiders.

The first great break came when John Kenneth Galbraith, the long- time Veblenian scholar at Harvard University and best-selling author, took the time to ensure that the farm was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. He was writing and producing the 10-part BBC/PBS series in 1974 called "The Age of Uncertainty" in which he traced the history of economic thought and needed the farm as a "set" for some of his shots. Understandably horrified by deteriorated condition of the farm, Galbraith also lent moral support.

Cleverly leveraging this support, Ruthmary Pennick, the archivist at Carleton College library, was able to overcome institutional bias just enough to get funds for emergency repairs. In spite of the farm's sad state when the restoration began in 1992, there would have been nothing to save at all if Ruthmary had not put a new roof on the house.




The intellectual descendants of Veblen, the institutionalists, are not supposed to believe in angels. But a financial angel appeared in the form of one William C. Melton, the chief economist at Minneapolis-based Inves- tor Diversified Services (IDS).

Both Melton and his father studied under Clarence Ayres-his father was a classmate of C. Wright Mills. In Ayres's last class in 1969, Bill Mel- ton served as his teaching assistant. Rick Tilman was also in that last class. Tilman claims that because of Ayres's advanced age, he would sometimes lose his place or become otherwise confused. Melton, who had been habituated to Veblen's ideas and terminology from early childhood, was able to gently steer Ayres back on track. Anyone who saw Melton's relationship with Ruthmary Pennick during the restoration finds such a story completely believable. Ruthmary had worked so long in the attempt to secure funds for the restoration that she sometimes wondered if such a "young" man could really do the job right. Melton responded by arranging honors for her efforts and showed an unusual sensitivity for her age and experience that finally won her confidence.

Though Melton is also a high-grade woodworker who attempted a farmhouse restoration once before, he soon realized the Veblen farm was too far gone to attempt to do the work himself-even though he finds such work therapeutic. He simply did not have the time. Having personally ex- perienced the frustrations of a restoration, however, made Melton possib- ly the most supportive owner such a project could have-right down to learning the name of the general contractor's dog.

The understanding reached between Melton, Peter McKinnon of River City Builders, and Steve Edwins of SMSQ Architects of Northfield resulted in a restoration that has literally exceeded all expectations-especially in the area of historical significance.

Even though this restoration was not done for architectural reasons, it was discovered that it could well have been. Thomas Veblen (Thorstein's father) was a master builder who had completed his carpenter's appren- ticeship in Norway. Found buried beneath the ill-conceived modifications, rot, and decay were a house and barn that are jewels of craftsmanship. Framing on both was accomplished with variations on the mortise-and- tenon joint. Hardwood floors were assembled from raw stock using a grove-and-spline method. Wainscoting was beaded by hand methods as were all the tongue-and-groove joints in the paneling. A flush trim scheme around the windows and doors looks surprisingly modern and further demonstrates the accuracy of Thomas's joint-making abilities.

The vocabulary of architectural design seems somehow inadequate to describe this heroic building effort. Steve Edwins makes a brave attempt




when he postulates that the federal-style symmetrical exterior contrast- ing with the very Norwegian and asymmetrical interior demonstrates how Thomas felt about himself in the new world-an assimilating face to the outside with traditions kept indoors.

Edwins's point is surely interesting, but it skirts the fact that Thomas was not an architect and never really learned English so could have not consciously decided to imitate any American building style on that level. The house looks federal from the outside, but that design impulse was probably motivated more by the available materials than by any other consideration.

Pragmatic considerations were paramount. The conditions under which this house was built in 1865 included the Civil War, primitive transportation, and a severe labor shortage when muscle power was everything. The house had to be built from mostly local materials using only the hand tools that could be hauled out onto the prairie in a horse- drawn wagon. Materials such as brick, glass, nails, locks, and hinges were obviously not made on site; nevertheless, the farm is a monument to self- reliance, hard work, and the determination necessary to overcome the hazards of isolation, swarms of biting bugs, wild animals, uncertain social arrangements, and worst of all, the Minnesota winters.

At a time when settlers were still building log-cabins, Thomas built a nine room house with an indoor water pump, a formal dining room with a pass-through divider to the kitchen, walk-in dressing rooms, and a par- lor/guest room with its own outside access. Dominating the east side is a two-level porch that spans the length of the house. While some of these design elements can be considered derivative, it is clear that Thomas was marching to his own drummer (a trait he obviously passed on to his son) as he attempted to build the best possible house in the face of a difficult environment.

The role of Kari, Thorstein's mother, must also be appreciated in this process. Obviously a formidable woman, she knew what she wanted in her third house in America. Carving a home from grassland after two mar- ginal attempts at settlement in Wisconsin was a triumph of hope over good sense. She no doubt extracted a promise from Thomas that if they moved just one more time, he would build her a dream house. A skilled weaver, she got a loom room on the second floor that is comfortable, spa- cious, well-lit, and trimmed with a wooden ceiling and wainscoting. A lover of cleanliness and order, she was provided with large limestone steps to the basement entrance and eventually a mud room off the kitchen to keep the mud and barn out of the house. Pragmatism was crowned with




graciousness when a large dressing room, complete with a window, was located off the master bedroom.

But even if the Veblen farmstead contains no historically significant architectural features, it still may be argued that this may be one of the most important historical restorations ever completed. Thorstein Veblen wrote virtually without footnotes. This fact, combined with his completely detached perspective on the world, has long confused the scholars who would assess his work. Joseph Dorfman, a professor from Columbia University and long considered Veblen's "official" biographer, once charac- terized Veblen's intellectual perspective as that of "a man from Mars." Modern Minnesotans, sensitive to slurs from New Yorkers, try to find such statements hilarious-on January days when it is -30?, they might even agree. The restoration demonstrated beyond doubt that "Mars" was really a pioneer farm on the Minnesota grasslands and in doing so, provided future scholars with some of the missing "footnotes."

Ironically, Dorfman's misrepresentations led to key information used in the restoration. Dorfman sent a preliminary manuscript of his 1934 biography, Thorstein Veblen and his America, to Andrew Veblen, Thorstein's brother, who was a math professor at the University of Iowa. For whatever reasons, Dorfman insisted that Thorstein Veblen had grown up in the most primitive and impoverished conditions. By urban Eastern standards, pioneer conditions were difficult, but the Veblens were far from poor-poor farmers did not send eight children to Carleton College even in those days. Rather, Thomas was what the Norwegians would call a bonder.1 Obviously annoyed if not infuriated, Andrew responded with three letters describing in minute detail just how wonderful the house his father had built on the prairie actually was. In the last letter, he included pictures of the house and barn from 1892. The letters were found by the restorers to be amazingly accurate, and the pictures, which were found by Bill Melton in 1992 among the Dorfman papers in the Columbia library, became the final arbiter of all questions of authenticity.

Any doubt that the restoration has provided valuable insights to Veblen's writing was dispelled near the very end of the project. I had taken it upon myself to explain the importance of Veblen to the craftsmen rebuilding the farmstead. I had described his Instinct of Workmanship as his most controversial book and explained that he believed that folks who work in contact with the machine process eventually come to see the world in terms of cause and effect. One carpenter, in many ways the most skilled on the job, looked up from the board he was shaping into a patch and asked, "Wherein lies the controversy?" The carpenters who have been carefully rebuilding the house for the past 20 months have uncovered




many reasons to believe that Veblen knew precisely and in great detail what the word "workmanship" meant.

It is not often that rebuilding an old farm leads to a greater understanding of the writings of a world-class intellectual. Buildings by themselves are rarely that important. These were. In fact, it can be reasonably argued that the restoration of the Veblen farmstead has provided more in- sight into Thorstein's writings than all of the scholarship since his death put together. And it has proved beyond all doubt that some restoration projects are more than a mere sentimental attachment for the past.

Jonathan Larson

The author is a free-lance writer living in Faribault, Minnesota.

Note

1. Bonder loosely translates into "country gentleman" or more accurately "big-time farmer," but in this case describes a very prosperous, multiskilled, and hard-work- ing farmer who took an active interest in science, technology, government, and education as well as the larger economic development issues that were the dominant topics for those who were trying to build new societies from largely empty but very fertile grassland. In other words, Thomas was a self-made and self-defined bonder modified by pioneer circumstances who was from all accounts enormously respected within the settlement-Thorstein called Thomas "the most intelligent man I ever met" with no hint of exaggeration.

Reflections on the Intellectual Context and Significance of Thorstein Veblen

In September 1954, I arrived at the University of Wisconsin to com- mence graduate studies in economics. I had taken a course on institutional economics at the University of Miami and went to Wisconsin because of its John R. Commons institutionalist tradition, especially its work, under Edwin Witte and Harold Groves, on the economic role of government. At that time, the only book written by an institutionalist that I had wholly read was Thorstein Veblen's The Theory of the Leisure Class. I have never regretted the decision to attend Wisconsin, then at the tail end of the reign of Commons's students. And I have never ceased to look at the world primarily, albeit not entirely, through an institutionalist prism, hopefully



a restoration of significance

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